


Marked By Your Bite

by eclipse_incarnate



Category: One Direction (Band), Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Shadowhunter AU, Shadowhunter Zayn, Vampire Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipse_incarnate/pseuds/eclipse_incarnate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“What— why? Why did you stop?” Zayn didn’t know how much air he was holding, but he was breathing laboriously. He stared at Niall, his eyes dilated. He was also catching up his breath, more of a habit rather than the ability to respire.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>After a few moments, the boy above him spoke, “Why did you wanna continue?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Both their gazes lingered for so long that the two were speechless, unable to utter a single word. Finally, Zayn stammered, “I don’t know. I mean— I liked kissing you.”</i>
</p><p>Zayn was a Shadowhunter, who slayed demons day and night. Niall was a vampire. Both boys were afraid of something, but they learned to overcome it, together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked By Your Bite

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, well... This was an unusual fic to write. I love the Shadowhunter World (read The Mortal Instruments series, and The Infernal Devices series! p.s. I haven't read the Bane Chronicles but I should start on that soon, though.) and the romance and action in it. The series is composed of epic romance/fantasy novels and it's really great!! I also love the characters and the relationships especially the one between Isabelle/Simon specifically in The Mortal Instruments: CIty of Lost Souls. This fic was inspired from their relationship although I did put in some of my own ideas and mixed a bit of their personalities and a bit of Zayn's and Niall's own traits as well.
> 
> Another note, I put in some background for what "Shadowhunters" do in the first half, so you may understand a bit of it.
> 
> If there were any typos, point it out on the comments although I did my best to prevent it and reread the fic.
> 
> Credits to The Mortal Instruments Series and Cassandra Clare for this!
> 
> Enjoy!

Zayn glanced down at Thames River, the body of water making little waves as he stood on the bridge above it. He was in the middle side of Blackfriars Bridge, his hands down his pockets, keeping them warm inside them. He was getting fresh air—trying to cool his hot body even though it was November. He then looked far out the river, just on the side of Fleet Street, thinking—just thinking about certain things that involves a certain person.

He’s in Shadowhunter gear—leather jacket, leather boots, leather gauntlets, leather pants and a black shirt. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe how much leather Shadowhunters were covered in. His whip—tricked as a silver pendant with a yin yang at the end—was on the side of his pants, ready to be grabbed whenever there’s trouble. He also had a seraph blade placed on his back.

He didn’t know why he was wearing his gear, but it made him feel at ease. Also, you never knew if there was a demon around or not. He rather be prepared than to be off his guard.

He started strolling through the side, unseen by the people around him—mundanes. Mundane was the Shadowhunter term for a human without the angelic blood, or wasn’t a Downworlder (werewolves, vampires, warlocks, and faeries), etc. He was spotted by two warlocks: One with green skin and sharp talons and the other with blue skin and cat-like eyes. They were sneaking glances at him—it’s not every day (or night) Downworlders saw people like him. Zayn ignored them and continued further up the bridge.

Zayn decided if he should go left or right, unsure if it’s a good idea to pursue the person he wanted right now. It was midnight, and he assumed he’s already sleeping. He chuckled to himself slightly, remembering the person would unlikely be sleeping at night.

He looked to the right longingly, eyeing his place of residence—the London Institute, down Fleet Street. Even from the distance, you could see its greatness. Through its _glamour_ , the place was disguised as an old and abandoned, burned down church that once was the All-Hallows-the-Less. From his perspective (and other creatures in his world), it’s an enormous church which inside was as glamorous as a castle.

He took the right turn, the wind suddenly picking up in harshness, his hair going all over the place. He combed it through his hands and placed it there until the wind stopped.

He was in Upper Thames Street now, paying no attention to a group of werewolves at an alley—he could sense they’re werewolves—as though they were hurting anyone.

It’s been a long walk and he was almost at his destination (he was in Whitechapel Road now), when he heard something moved from his right. He quickly searched the area (up-left-right-forward-backward-right-left-up-backward-right) while at the same time grabbing his whip off his neck, with his touch, was now activated as it stretched its length, ready to dispatch anyone nearby.

He heard another series of footsteps. He spun around quickly. His heart was beating surprisingly fast. He figured it was the cause of trying to puzzle out the noise. It seemed it stopped, but he wasn’t leaving it alone. He twirled his whip between his fingers, playing with the electrum-wired weapon as he went on to find this _thing_.

He advanced where he presumably detected the whereabouts of the creature. He realized he was in front of an alleyway—deciding if it was a good idea to pursue it, or leave it behind. But he’s a Shadowhunter, Children of Nephilim, he couldn’t just leave something suspicious behind—it could be a demon.

He stared at his ring, the ruby emitting a slight twinkle of red. It _was_ a demon. The jewellery was a twelfth-birthday gift from his mother. It was a Malik heirloom, passed down to generations of his family.

Zayn entered the narrow, dark path; the only provided source of light was the moon. Thankful for the Night Vision Rune, he could see things clearly in the dark.

He stepped on a crashed can, gritting his teeth at the sound made. At the same time, there was movement again coming from the deeper part of the path. He gripped tightly around his whip and took a step forward; feeling heated again all of sudden, sweat dripping from his left temple.

Zayn reached down the end, brick wall mocking his findings. He sighed heavily, confused, and turned back around. He was met by a person; tall, lanky, his head a mess of tiny, black curls, and his eyes were grey. The moonlight was hitting his face like a spotlight. The ruby gleamed more in the dark. He reckoned it’s an Eidolon Demon, shapeshift as an average human. Besides, he could see him through his _glamour_. He must be a demon. The person smiled.

“Hello, there! You look lost.” The guy said, his eyes dark. He smirked at him and felt a slight shiver ran through his spine. He sashayed forward, his feet making less or no noise at all. Zayn braced himself; his hold around his whip tightened. The ring around his index finger glowed even more fiercely. He slid his left foot back and crouched, ready to attack.

He trashed his whip at the demon’s ankle from two feet away. The guy hit the concrete floor, wincing a little as his eyes became menacing. The other guy stood up quickly and came at Zayn’s direction with fury. The raven-haired boy dodged and whirled the rope-like tool and struck it on its right arm, brandishing a stripe of red at the shapeshifter. With another try, Zayn secured his whip around the enemy’s neck. Demons weren’t like humans—they couldn’t die as easily as choking someone to death. He let go of the demon, kicked his back away from his, to give himself space, and swiftly brought out his seraph blade from his back.

Before Zayn could do anything, the demon came running away from him.

“Fuck,” Zayn spat out and ran after the guy. He reached the entrance of the alleyway, a furrow between his eyebrows formed as he searched all directions. He lost _it_.

He was on the verge of giving up—anger and guilt were building up in his chest—and was slowly placing the sword back into its former place, but decided against it when he saw from the corner of his eye was the demon launching at him—a raging scream filled the air.

He stumbled back, his back hitting the dirty floor and the bladed-weapon slipped from his hold. The guy was on top of him, trying to choke him while his knees were at his sides.

Zayn slowly lifted his fist, and with difficulty, punched the grey-eyed man in the face—three times—and knocked his foot at his stomach. The demon released an “omf” and staggered backwards. He coughed black liquid, his hand on his middle.

“Thought you were a pretty mundie.” The Eidolon demon stated, a smirked began to rise from his lips.

“You really think a mundane would be wearing all leather and equipped with a sword? Next joke, please.” Zayn said as he picked up his seraph blade and treaded nearer the boy on the floor, its elbows supporting his position. “Besides, I was in _glamour_.”

“’Was distracted from your pretty face.” The guy chuckled, his hand came to wipe off the black substance on his chin. He spat on the ground.

“I get that a lot.” Zayn replied with a lopsided smile.

“Nakir!” He shouted the angel’s name and the sword blazed up in heavenly fire—its fiery glow mesmerizing to his eyes.

The Shadowhunter pulled the once-blunt sword high and took the blade through the demon’s chest. Black liquid was oozing off the demon as he screamed in agony. Zayn made a sound of disgust as he started to dissolve into nothingness.

“By the way, you’re the dumbest demon I’ve ever met if you were distracted by my looks,” he scoffed and paused, a look of amusement forming on his face, finger high in the air. “But then again.”

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t planning on fighting a demon tonight, especially an Eidolon demon who was interested in him. He was now really glad he wore his gear. Battling demons was hard work but it also brings him a sensation of ecstasy—he felt victorious, joyful, proud, blissful, etc.—whenever he killed one of those demonic creatures.

He was now walking down East End. His boots hitting the rough concrete, kicking pebbles along the way. His hands were in his pockets again and thinking if it was a really good idea to come _here_. It’s probably an hour over midnight now. He’s still not feeling the slightest sleepy, but he was tired.

He just wanted _his_ company.

Zayn didn’t really know what they were, if they were together as a couple, friends, or with benefits. The last one seemed ridiculous because they haven’t done anything sexually. They hadn’t either done anything romantically, except for that one dinner at that pizza place down this very street, where they fed each other cheesy pizza (well, Zayn made an effort to let him eat the pizza) and had a few laughs, and maybe brushed each other’s hands when both of them made for the check, Zayn releasing quickly, blushing. The other boy offered to pay then—he didn’t even eat! It was very awkward, though; the date that is—was it even a date? Or just one of those ordinary hang outs, as friends? It didn’t seem something friends would do, so he didn’t know.

He passed by the street and carried on.

 

* * *

 

Zayn was now in front of someone’s flat. He stripped off his _glamour_ and stepped forward the house. He wanted to knock and came inside, but he was nervous. He didn’t know why, he didn’t get why, but the other boy opposite of this door made him feel that way. He didn’t know what they were, didn’t know where they stand, but he wanted him—needed him.

He brought his hand up, balled up in a fist, still trying to figure out if it’s a good idea to do this. He exhaled a tiring breath and lightly pounded door.

The first time he had did this, he was also nervous but composed at the same time. He was drunk, so when he was in that state, he did things quite easily. He just couldn’t sleep, and he wanted someone, so he came by this very house and knocked on the door and was welcomed by a blond, pale boy, with bright blue eyes, and a surprising but welcoming smile.

He had come in with him by the boy’s bedroom and both lied down the soft mattress and held each other’s hands.

The pale boy’s hand was cold against him, but was reassuring, as if it felt that hand will never let go of him, will never leave him, and will always be there for him whenever he wished to.

There wasn’t any conversation except for one:

He remembered the way he bluntly asked, “I couldn’t sleep; can you tell me a story?”

The other boy had chuckled lightly, and then, he was laughing with him. His laugh was contagious and the urge to join in with him was unavoidable.

His laugh was warm, unlike his touch. He was always cold to his skin, but when he opens his mouth, it was like the little warmth you get from the sun in the cold, freezing winter—but warmer, brighter and full of life.

“I don’t even read, Zayn.”

“True.” Zayn agreed cheerily, and the other let go of his hand and faced him.

“You could tell me one. You like books, right? Especially those comic books you dearly loved.” The boy teased with interest, his eyes twinkled for a brief moment as he did.

“Yeah, but, comic books are lame.” Zayn wryly smiled.

“You don’t seem to think they’re lame.” The boy took his hand again and Zayn felt hot all of the sudden even though his touch was icy.

“Okay, these two…” Zayn had started.

His thoughts were disrupted by the opening of the door and he was met by the same boy, with the same pair of blue eyes, and the same surprising but welcoming smile. “Come in.”

He scraped off the bottom of his boots by the pavement and entered in.

“Leave your boots and your Shadowhunter things by the door.” He removed his shoes near the door, wore off the leather jacket and hung it by the coatrack, and left his stash of weapons on the side, except for his necklace.

“Do you want tea?” The source of the voice came from near the kitchen.

“No, thanks. I couldn’t sleep.” Zayn said as he was inside, catching up on the familiar setting of the living room. It was tiny and everything was the same—tiny couch, television set, low coffee table with a few photo albums underneath, and other furniture. The only thing different were the curtains. He took a deep breath as he took in the scent of the room. As always, it smelled like take-out Chinese food, Yorkshire Tea, apples and— _Niall_.

It smelled like Niall—the scent of cheap perfume and minty toothpaste. It also felt like him, as if it were the rare chilly air in the summer.

“So,” Niall turned back, carrying a cup of tea on a cup saucer. He took a sip and went on. “Why are you here?”

“Um,” Zayn looked down at his feet, then back again at the other boy with a shy smile. “I couldn’t sleep. ‘Been thinking ‘bout stuff.

“I attempted going to my sisters first, but when I opened their door, I realized they’re already sleeping—lucky. I’d go to my mother, but I’m pretty sure she was tired from running the Institute and the multiple Enclave meetings held today.” Then he was babbling, his hands making circular movements in the air, his hazel eyes never meeting the blue ones.

“I’d go to my dad as well, but, well, he’s at Idris for something important, I don’t know what it is to be honest, but I’m pretty sure it’s a Shadowhunter thing.” Zayn sneaked in a tiny smile at Niall, before moving on. “And then, I decided to go to Louis, but he was drunk as shit, and—“

“Zayn,” Niall interrupted and he was chuckling. Zayn smiled at him and sighed. The thing was, Niall was the first one he would think about going to, to either talk to or just wanting some company, but he would always be the last resort. He was the cherry on top of a sundae ice cream—the first one he would notice, but the last one he would eat. He would be the final possible choice because every time he met up with the boy, it made him feel weird and nervous, which he wasn’t like him all. Slaying those so-called demons was easy, but when it came to Niall, well…

“I’m sorry. I just— You make me nervous.” He confessed without hesitation, his eyes were wide, his heart was beating quickly and pounding heavily. They both stared at each other for a few seconds, their gazes longing and definite. The other boy coughed.

“Um, well, I don’t know what to say but—“ Niall looked down his cup of tea and frowned. In the looks of it, the once hot beverage was now cold. He set it down the nearby counter and grinned at Zayn.

“C’mon, you couldn’t sleep you say?” He said low. He gave Zayn a sly smile and started to go towards his bedroom.

 

* * *

 

No one was talking, or moving. Zayn and Niall were side by side. There was a comfortable silence, which Zayn could describe as serenity. But he wanted more.

Saying something was inevitable, afraid that some awkward speeches would come the way and he wasn’t up for that. But he also wished to speak with Niall, just something because he craved for his voice, the Irish lilt in his voice that made Zayn melt like butter every time. His mind was running of million thoughts to say, but he couldn’t get it out right.

His own thoughts were broken by Niall. “So, why are you here, Zayn?”

“I told you, I couldn’t sleep.” Zayn answered immediately and felt his chest rise and fall.

“Yeah, but why come here? Why come an hour away on foot from the Institute just to come here? To my house? To me?” His voice was low at the last two words, and then proceeded with a low laugh. “And say you couldn’t sleep?”

Earlier, when Zayn was thinking about a “certain person” back at Blackfriars Bridge, well, that “certain person” was Niall. These past few weeks had been hard for Zayn, mentally. He couldn’t sleep at night much; his mind was always persisting to run to the thoughts of that blond, pale boy, with tantalizing blue eyes, biggest grin, and a warm laugh. He was not the one who… welcomed this type of feeling—feeling for a certain someone.

The vibe to listen to someone talk about nonsense but loved it anyway; the thought to shower someone with adoring words and expensive gifts; the idea to hold someone’s hand comfortably and with affirmation to never abandon you;  the sense to kiss someone passionately, lovingly, and with a touch of promise. It’s making Zayn crazy, but he never got the courage to do those things because he’s scared of that _feeling_.

Niall was a vampire, he got it, and he didn’t care. Niall had also dated a werewolf before—Josh. Josh was a werewolf and Niall was a vampire, but it wasn’t hard for him to be with Josh. The two had too much in common, so in the end, they just decided to be friends, reasoning that they didn’t see each other much as a couple.

At that end time of Niall’s relationship with Josh, Niall and Zayn were gradually spending a lot of time together. Niall was always laughing and Zayn was always fond of how he laughed, how loud it was and seemed obnoxious, how he had been stomping his feet when he found the joke extremely hilarious. His skin was as chilly as how warm his laugh was.

Spending a lot of time with Niall turned into the growing ache in his heart. He didn’t hate it, but it was just confusing, and scary, and unnatural to him. He wasn’t well-known to this type of feeling—he was as though twinging with joy; aching with happiness; throbbing with delight every time it came to him. It was strange but it was also pleasing. He liked it, but he was also scared of it.

Why was he here? He didn’t know the answer, but he knew what wanted—and that was Niall.

It was clear to him he liked him—like his bleached blond hair; his enthralling blue eyes, the flecks of gold and green decorative all over the pair; his paleness, how it contrasted with his darker complexion; how he said stuff with difficulty most of the time because of his Irish accent; the way he hugged people, mostly how he hugged him; how he complained about stuff, the face he made; how he bit his lip when he was uncertain about something; his laugh; his smile; his everything.

It was obvious that Zayn was _in love_ with him, but he wasn’t just ready to say it out loud. He wanted to show it first, rather than blurting out his feelings to the said boy.

“I don’t know. I just want you. Just want to be near you. With you, I feel at ease.” Zayn finally replied after a long pause. He felt Niall shift his position, now facing him.

It was slow and surprisingly warm when Niall attached his own hand to his. Zayn glanced down, seeing the comparison between their skin colors. It was pretty to look at, but Niall was getting a hold of his chin with his other hand, his eyes finally resting on the other.

“You said I made you nervous. Now, I make you feel at ease? You confuse me, Zayn.” It wasn’t questioning, but it made Zayn unsettled. The statement with the hand-holding was making him feel sick to his stomach, but at that pit of that stomach was fluttering butterflies.

“I don’t know. I mean… I feel nervous around you because I don’t wanna do or say something stupid,” Niall arched an eyebrow at him. “—No, stop that!”

The other boy giggled. “Anyway… and well you make me feel at ease because you’re the only person who could probably make— who could probably make me feel—“ Zayn kept pausing, unable to say the words in the back of his head.

“Who could probably make you feel…?” There was a lingering question in his voice and Zayn didn’t know the answer to that.

“Um,” Zayn was scanning around for answers, but there was none. Before he could face Niall again, he was on top him, hovering over Zayn as if he were the prey of his next meal, but there was no dark in his eyes, only softness and assurance.

It was shockingly warm and cold at the same time—it was unusual, but amazing. He arched backwards, his hips rutting forward. He was kissing him hard, but gentle, like how he hugged people. He felt a shiver ran down his spine when Niall cupped both of his cheeks. His breath hitched, and at the same time, he was trying to explore his hands down the other boy’s sides and stomach, his hands once in a while lifting up the hem of his shirt, trying to pass it and feel the pale skin beneath his tanned fingers.

He was informed before that he was never in a relationship before Josh. He had confessed that him and Josh never really did feel anything passionate, never even shared a heated kiss. This was Niall’s first _real_ kiss. He was screaming in the back of his mind, his brain exploding with overwhelming thoughts. He didn’t want to stop it, though, so he just returned the favor.

Suddenly, Niall pulled away hastily.

“What— why? Why did you stop?” Zayn didn’t know how much air he was holding, but he was breathing laboriously. He stared at Niall, his eyes dilated. He was also catching up his breath, more of a habit rather than the ability to respire.

After a few moments, the boy above him spoke, “Why did you wanna continue?”

Both their gazes lingered for so long that the two were speechless, unable to utter a single word. Finally, Zayn stammered, “I don’t know. I mean— I liked kissing you.”

He let his eyes travel down the vampire’s lips and he saw, without a doubt, fangs, slowly retracting. He saw Niall’s reaction and got off him, feeling embarrassed.

“Oh, you’re hungry,” he said. “When was the last time you had any blood?”

“Yesterday,” the other said with little difficulty.

“You should feed yourself. You know what happens if you don’t.” Zayn moved to his side as he prompted his elbow for support, his hand on his temple.

“I don’t have any left. I ran out and couldn’t be bothered.” Niall stated. Although vampires were allowed to prey on humans for blood (but they shouldn’t kill them), he was different. He drank animal blood, and kept bottles of it inside his flat. He restricted himself from consuming human blood, for the fact he thought it was “inhumane” even though he wasn’t even human himself anymore. He reasoned that he was human once himself. Another excuse was he might kill someone accidentally.

Niall did it once to his best friend, Sean. He was hungry, hadn’t eaten in days, and tired. Zayn was there to pull him out, grateful for his presence. His best friend lived, didn’t die and didn’t turn, and was aware he was a vampire after the incident.

Zayn understood where Niall’s fear was coming from. He placed his palm on the side on Niall’s cheeks, once were very rosy, now pale and cold.

“I’m here.” Niall’s eyes widened with shock and horror.

“No, Zayn, no. You know what happened last time I bit somebody.” He trembled and moved Zayn’s hand away from him.

“But I’m not _just_ a ‘somebody’, Ni. I’m a Shadowhunter. We replace our blood three times more than most mundanes.” Zayn argued and sat upright, looking at Niall with desire, lust,—and concern.

“You can’t be serious.“ The other said, closing his eyes and breathing in out of habit.

Zayn inched closer. He didn’t know why he couldn’t stop, didn’t get his want for this. He touched the pale skin next to him, and felt a shudder through his own as he did.

“Niall,” he said, starting lay down again. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” Niall asked with worry, but he was already climbing over Zayn again. Pairs of eyes were staring one another. A pair of hands was on both sides of his shoulders. “Are you sure about this? What if I do something? What if I kill you?”

Zayn raised his hands and rested it on Niall’s shoulders. “I can always pull you away. I’m a well-marked and a well-trained Shadowhunter. If it gets too much, I will push you away. Okay?”

Niall nodded, gulped, and with uncertainty, started to close the distance between them. Zayn could see from the corner of his eyes Niall pulled out his fangs while he checked him out for second. He just inhaled a lungful of air, not from nervousness, but as a form of encouragement.

He welcomed the bite, and he involuntarily arched his back, causing the boy above him moan. It was pain at the first contact, but now it was pleasure. The poison in the vampire bite made the victim react with satisfaction, as if it was someone giving someone as normal as a hickey. He could feel the blood in his veins moving. It was euphoric and blissful, and Zayn could only moan and close his eyes as Niall did all the work.

Pale hands moved freely up and down Zayn’s own brown arms and he could only do the same as he caressed back of the boy over him afterwards.

The contentment he was experiencing ended as if a switch was turning on and the light came back to notice his surroundings.

He noticed Niall, his eyes were big and lustful. He grinned, tiny droplets off blood still on his lips. He wiped it away and beamed even wider. It was energizing and he smiled back.

“That wasn’t so bad, wasn’t it?” He inquired. Niall ducked his head and laughed at him.

Maybe this was why he liked Niall. He was always smiling and laughing and was always full of life even though his kind wasn’t always like that. He always stood by his humane side, and embraced it like never before. He was also a bit naïve, afraid, and fearful (like him, in a way, he thought), but he knew to do things nonetheless. His heart ached at the thought and smiled even brighter. Zayn was now aware of his veins getting replaced with new, fresh blood.

“I like you, Zayn.”

Not even a second to process the words, Zayn was met by another kiss. He was struck at first, his eyes feeling it may bulge out. Two unexpected things to encounter in these types of situations wasn’t the idea of Zayn a normal thing. He let his eyelids close and let Niall work his tongue inside his own mouth, running it within as if he was an expert.

Niall backed away, grinning. “So?”

“So, what?” Zayn furrowed his eyebrows, his breathing uneven. Niall laughed for a moment, and then looked at Zayn with sincerity.

“So, do you like me too?” Niall was silent, waiting for an answer. He withdrew his body off him and Zayn raised his own up straight. He approached the other boy’s hands and grasped them tightly. He wasn’t afraid anymore.

“We’re like Rogue and Gambit, aren’t we? From X-Men.” Niall could only stare as Zayn proceeded.

“You know I narrated both of them last time I was here.” He laughed. He remembered the both of them in bed, after Niall insisted he should tell him a story instead of him.

“Rogue and Gambit had this uncertainty with each other, especially Rogue. She was afraid to touch someone—anyone—because of her power to draw someone’s powers and energy, and hurt them, or in rare cases, kill them. It’s like you, you see, you were afraid to drink my blood, afraid you may hurt me, afraid you may drink too much and kill me, but you didn’t. You didn’t hurt me because you controlled yourself.

“Rogue was unable to touch someone because her powers didn’t develop right, didn’t reach its true potential. But later on, she could touch someone and manage her own abilities, with some help. Like yourself, you were only getting started with this vampire thing when you attacked Sean, but now, after months of being a vampire, you managed to suppress yourself from killing someone, killing me. Well, you couldn’t kill me anyway.”

Niall cocked his eyebrow at him. “No. I’m not saying I’m better than you—I am, though—but simply because you lo— like me. And I think I can finally say that yes, I like you, too.”

“I like you, too,” Zayn went for a kiss on the cheek. He was so used to Niall’s chilly temperature that it came off warm to him. He bumped his own forehead with the boy and smiled, the side of his eyes crinkling. He grabbed both sides of his head. “Very much.”

“Most Shadowhunters would read the books in the Insitute’s library. You read comic books from stores and online.” Niall joked and Zayn gave him a lopsided smile.

Tanned hands let go of Niall’s head and placed it on the owner’s lap. “And I suppose I’m Gambit because I used to do one-night stands and were adored by many women—and men. You also caught my attention at first, though, like how Gambit was to Rogue.”

“Me too.” Niall’s smile was truly genuine.

“For my part, I was also afraid—to like you I mean. I don’t want to mess this up.” Zayn showed some teeth as he looked down. He lifted his eyes back again at those blue ones and smiled at him, his eyes clear in the dark.

“Me too.”

There was a serene silence that filled the air.

“You swear, though? You like me too?” He laughed low, but it was serious and steady. His eyes were full of wonder and doubt, but there was also a glint of hope and joy.

Zayn wet his own lips and grinned once more. And then, without hesitation, he attached his own lips with Niall’s as if to prove it. They both smiled into the kiss.

“By the Angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> I put in the Gambit/Rogue thing in the near end because I wanted to point out Zayn's love for comic books (I also love Rogue and Gambit). I also think it added more into the story. Idk.
> 
> I also might write another one in the same universe with Warlock!Zayn, Shadowhunter!Niall. Or write a mini-oneshot based on how Zayn and Niall met before this event. I don't really know if I'll write either one soon, but it's in my to-do list (I guess.).
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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